We got up early and drove in darkness to catch this brief moment of light and color in the mountains. We don’t mind the drives—they’re a perfect combination of companionship and conversation without interruptions from phones.
It’s been the most beautiful of Octobers. Cool mornings, warm days, and many opportunities to view the colors of fall. For once, the winds haven’t snatched the leaves from the trees.
This particular place is one I’ve photographed before and hiked through the trees in the background. The mornings when the water is burnished in copper by the mountain’s alpenglow are special though. It doesn’t happen all the time.
And that beautiful red bush on the beaver lodge! How perfect…
I’m not a big fan of Hallmark holidays. Some are easier to ignore than others, but not this one. This one is a blatant reminder of what I no longer have, and I know I’m not alone with these feelings.
That’s the thing about life—you aren’t guaranteed more of anything. Not time, not love, not even relationships. One day you can wake up and words left unsaid, or spoken in anger, are what remain. Echoing through an eternity of what might have been. My father’s been gone for decades now but I know that he knew how much he was loved. I’m happy I told him that. And I was never more sure of his love than in those times when I wasn’t the best daughter.
Father’s Day is joyful for some and painful for others. I think about the men in my life and am so proud of them. Amongst them are great fathers, new fathers, sons taking care of fathers. Some have lost fathers, some have lost children, some have lost dogs—you know I can’t forget the dog dads!
It takes a special person to be a father and maturity on the part of the child to understand the complexity of the relationship.
My father painted landscapes and the ones that I own are amongst my most prized possessions. And every time the shutter clicks on a landscape like the one above, I think of him.
I’m glad I didn’t only celebrate my dad on the third Sunday in June. I may not have known it in the moment but he gave my life a richness that I’m forever grateful for.
Relationships can be as transient as alpenglow in the mountains—treasure the good ones. If there isn’t balance in the relationship, if it’s predicated on you doing all the work, consider walking away. Life’s too short, spend it with the people you love. The ones whose love you never question.
In life, I’m not one to look back. I don’t dwell in high school memories. The wishes I make aren’t for do-overs. Sometimes you just do what you do in the moment because it feels like the right path forward. My philosophy applies to people too—don’t allow the intrusion into your life of people that don’t make you feel good about yourself—the cancers that masquerade as friends/family but secretly gnaw at your exterior bit by bit, hoping to access your soul and infect it with their disease.
There is a time and a place for looking back, though. During sunrise and sunset. Sometimes in the garish beauty of one of those events you can find, simply by turning around, a quieter, less common light path. Like alpenglow. A brief and fleeting optical phenomenon found, on occasion, when conditions are right and the sun is below the horizon.